


Inevitable

by SavannahWest



Series: Inevitible [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019), Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Penetration, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 13:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavannahWest/pseuds/SavannahWest
Summary: Los Angeles - Weeks ago“So have you guys fucked yet?” He asks boldly “Because this sexual tension is ridiculous. I get hard just from being around you guys.” It’s Brandon who is speaking and then there’s a light choking sound, but that’s coming from you. Ignorant or unperturbed he continues “and just so you know, you totally have my blessing.”NowIt’s all been leading up to this moment. Since the first time Taron introduced you on the set of Rocketman. You took to each other straight away, you and Richard, with open arms and hearts. The three musketeers of Bray studios Dexter would joke kindly whenever you visited set.So it’s not like this was unexpected, it’s been coming for a while. An inevitability since well before the night Brandon blew it all wide open. You look directly from Taron to Richard. You give an almost imperceptible nod.Richard takes off his shirt.





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray in to Taron Egerton or Richard Madden fanfic and my first foray in to any fiction at all in many many years. Not beta'd so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> If you enjoy please let me know :-)

**New York - Now**

The door clicks shut behind him as he enters from the hallway, the soft sound seems loud in the tense quiet air of the room. You watch them both silently, waiting for one of them to make the first move; eyes moving nervously from your lover to your friend. More than a friend you think, much more than that. They’re both staring at you, you don’t know where to look. You’ve just gotten ready for bed; you weren’t sure if Richard was going to come after he made an excuse to go back to his room after you all left the bar. You can’t say you weren’t crestfallen, after everything, but you didn’t show it; just went through your nightly routine, smiling at your love, at Taron, as he brushed his teeth beside you. Taron is still in his dress pants but he’s hung up his shirt. It’s a beautiful sight; the firm muscle tone of his stomach and chest. He’s in training again; you miss the slight softness sometimes. You can see Richard appreciates it to, his eyes dance back and forth between you. Richard is still fully dressed but his collar is open now, a few buttons undone; his chest hair spills out and tantalises in the open space.

You feel awkward, suddenly unprepared after the bravado of only an hour ago. You’d psyched yourself up and then came crashing back down. And now he’s here, finally. It’s all been leading up to this moment. Since the first time Taron introduced you on the set of Rocketman, the excitement in his eyes of gaining a new friend, one he knew was real and true and forever. You took to each other straight away, you and Richard, with open arms and hearts. The three musketeers of Bray studios Dexter would joke kindly whenever you visited set. You three huddled together in a corner, laughing and cuddling. No one ever blinked an eye, they’d all been around Taron long enough to know his fond touches and his kindness, his sweet heart.

So it’s not like this was unexpected, it’s been coming for a while, discussed and even negotiated. Built on the foundations of two years of friendship that you hoped were strong enough to hold. An inevitability since well before the night Brandon blew it all wide open. You look directly from Taron to Richard. You give an almost imperceptible nod.

Richard takes off his shirt.

_**Los Angeles - Seven weeks ago** _

_“So have you guys fucked yet?” He asks boldly “Because this sexual tension is ridiculous. I get hard just from being around you guys.” It’s Brandon who is speaking and then there’s a light choking sound, but that’s coming from you. Ignorant or unperturbed he continues “and just so you know, you totally have my blessing.” The last comment is directed at Richard, his boyfriend of…how long? Months you suppose, but it was a covert start so you’re not sure. It’s still quiet, just a whisper on the lips of the tabloids, the internet. “007 can’t be Bi” you’ve heard Rich say jokingly, but serious too. He’s careful. _

_Brandon laughs, probably at the look on all of your faces. His laugh is genuine but it’s laced with something, an edge of malice you’ve always felt. Jealousy. Richard doesn’t see it. Sweet Richard with his doe eyes and soft heart; he looks at Brandon like he hung the moon. He looks at you that way too, and Taron. You melt further in to Richard’s side; bring the sleeves of Taron’s hoody over your hands, the collar up around your chin. It helps with the chill of the air-conditioning but it doesn’t cover your incriminating blush. Richards arm tightens around you; you’re sat close to each other on the oversized couch. Cosy. The couch is weathered brown leather, worn around the edges but as soft as the clouds. The rest of the apartment is so L.A., so Brandon; light and airy and sleek and metal and cold. It’s a bit cold. Not warm and lived in like Richard, rugged and handsome and safe. You haven’t seen him in a few months, since he left for L.A and broke all of your hearts; the three musketeers. You’ve missed him desperately; for a while after he left London you felt like you’d lost a limb, you suspected Taron did to. It took time to regain your equilibrium, just the two of you, like it was all those years before. Before Richard. _

_So you’ve been inseparable since you arrived, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Brandon is sitting in the armchair across the room, he likes the vantage point, he likes to watch you all closely. The picture of relaxation and contentment with his legs casually crossed in front of him, head dropped back to inhale deeply and blow smoke in to the air. Taron watches you carefully from his place in the other arm chair. He stopped smoking a while ago, he’s nursing some of Richards’s whisky - on the rocks –the only way he can tolerate it. He hates whisky but he loves Richard; can’t deny him anything. _

_He allows the touching, the tenderness between you and Richard. He is an active participant usually, cuddly and gentle; his fondness for both of you spills out of him like sunlight through an open curtain. Just not tonight; not with Brandon here too, Brandon who is new and not quite trusted. Not quite trustworthy, you suspect. Taron loves you both, you and Richard, he wants you both. He can’t say it. None of you can. _

_Richard takes another toke of his joint, his eyes rolling up, in annoyance or from the mellow. He’s the first to speak after Brandon’s attempt to ruffle some feathers “Give it a rest, Bran” He says, not without a warning edge. _

_You’re precious, you and Taron. He loves Brandon but it’s not a competition. There is no competition. It’s you three; till the sun sets. Brandon knows this, knows he can’t compete._

_ “Alright fine” Brandon holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I just don’t think it’s healthy” He pauses for affect, “although I sure benefit from it” He says and winks lewdly in Richards’s direction. Richard roles his eyes, a knowing smirk on his lips.  
_

_It benefits us all; you think but don’t say out loud. Taron rarely fucks you as emphatically as he does after you've spent a few days around Richard. The tension affects all of you. You glance at Taron, you’re both thinking it. Taron is concentrating very hard on the glass in his hands, the rocks have long since melted, diluting the acrid taste, but it’s still barely palatable. His expression is neutral, well schooled. You’ve been staying with Richard in L.A for the last few days. You both know Taron will have you screaming in to the pillows tonight. You tingle in anticipation._

_ “I think it’s time for bed” You say._

_ “Oooh goody” Brandon replies. Richard laughs. _

_You think you hear them moaning later from down the hall but your head is in the ether as Taron fucks in to you from behind. The moans might be coming from you._

**New York - Now**

That night was the catalyst, perhaps one of the most pivotal moment in your life so far, including the day you met Taron, back when he was mostly working in theatre and television, waiting patiently for his star to begin its rise. You don’t know whether to thank Brandon or solicit his murder. You’re wound tightly like a spring. You haven’t drunk enough, barely anything. You wanted a clear head. You wanted to remember.

Your clothes are off now, it was frantic and yet too slow. You wished you’d changed in to something sexier, something less mundane. This could be the most erotic night of your life and you began it in a matching set of short pyjamas. You remember looking into Taron’s eyes as he unbuttoned your shirt, his pupils blown with lust. You remember hearing Richards belt buckle hit the floor.

And Jesus, the way they’re looking at you now, touching you. It’s a lot. It’s too much, too intense, too nerve-wracking, too exposing, too thrilling. People shouldn’t look at people this way, touch people this way. Reverent and primitive and wild.

You keep your eyes on Taron. With him this is natural, practiced, though not to the extent of old-hat; it still thrills and tingles and makes you shudder in the best way. But it’s familiar and there is comfort here. You know him. You know the smell of his breath, the taste on his tongue; mint or coffee or tobacco or you. You know the strain of his muscles as his arms hold himself above you; the brush of his thighs, the scratch and tingle of his wiry hairs against your legs, your pelvis. You’ve memorised the bristles on his jaw line as his eyes were closed tightly, as he fought and shuddered and pulsed over you. Your fingertips have been everywhere, all over him like a well worn map. Lovingly stroked and gripped and grabbed and bruised and scratched and soothed in equal measure.

But this, him in front of you like this, this is new. The look in his eyes is a new kind of wild. It’s unbridled and it’s unnerving and it's frisson like you’ve never felt. And it’s because of the hard, taught feel of _him_ behind you, the other him. Just as important but not nearly as vital and it’s always been confusing that way. Richard is pressed so closely against your back. He’s too close and too far and too little and too much. His chest, its hard glory, it presses against your back, the hair tickles and titillates and a euphoric feeling dissolves through your skin, in to your every fibre, flowing deep, and your breathing is laboured, shallow and this is what they mean. This is how it feels to be overcome, to be lost, weak and so fucking turned on, you’re helpless. You can feel wetness dripping down your thighs, slick and as obscene as the noises you’re making, feel waves of pleasure rolling through you, down your arms to the tips of your fingers, making your legs shake. You’re being held upright, because Taron is just as close, just as oppressive. He’s at your front. He’s kissing and squeezing and frantic and rough, he’s everywhere. Everywhere Richard isn’t, Taron is. He lifts your leg to angle it around his hip, the tip of his hard cock nudges at your pussy. He’s dominant tonight. He likes to be reverent but not now, not this time. He’s telling you, you’re mine, Richard’s here but you’re mine. He’s right.

Richard’s mouth is on your neck, his tongue wet and exploring and his stubble scratches in the most beautiful way. Your head leans back in to him, arching your neck for more, please more, and you’re lost in it. Unraveling in the feeling of him, strong and probing and touching you, touching you in the way you only let yourself imagine in the deepest and darkest and most secret parts of you. Then you’re jolted forward, pulled away from him and back towards Taron. You knew this would be a delicate balance, your pleasure but on Tarons terms. You go to him willingly, you kiss him deeply, your lips and your tongue know this place. He knows you. It’s wet and messy and biting and he needs to know. It’s always been him, it’ll always be him, but this thing, between the three of you, it couldn’t be ignored any more. Richards touch was too addictive, the connection between the three of you too strong. The lilting way he speaks both of your names; devotion on his lips.

It had to explode, and you can only hope you can come through the other side alive.

_ **New York - One hour ago ** _

_You meet in the bar of your hotel for dinner and drinks. After a long day of traveling yesterday and a longer day of sight-seeing while Taron worked today you should be tired; but you’re wired, feeling restless, alive. The conversation came easier than you thought it would although you’re not sure why you’re surprised. It’s always been so easy between the three of you, easy to just exist in each others space, orbiting around each other like perfectly aligned planets in your own private solar system. _

_“If we’re going to do this we need to have ground rules” Taron says gruffly and without any introduction. Your dinners’ have been digested and the catch up chatter has petered out, a frisson of tension settling in. The one glass of wine has gone to your head and the ever present tingle between your legs from being around these two men has taken over. It’s too late, you think, your control has slipped way past its retrieving. They can do what they want, anything and everything as hard or as soft. You have no rules. Hearing them talk like this, it’s so hot, it’s so real. It can’t be real. _

_Richard nods. He knows he’s the intruder here. As welcome as he may be, he’ll play by Taron’s rules._

_ “You can’t fuck her pussy, that’s mine only” Taron says crudely but not without validity. You’d discussed this before; it was a bridge Taron wasn’t willing to cross. “And, no…nothing with me, not tonight, alright Rich?” Taron adds softly and with less intensity. _

_Richard nods in agreement. The corner of the bar you’re in is dimly lit but you can still see the tremble of his hand against his knee, the dilation of his pupils, sense the undercurrent of lust. You wonder if this is the first time he’s thought about it since that night back in L.A with Brandon, but you doubt it. When Taron brought it up Richards response wasn’t one of surprise, he was ready. You wonder if he’s discussed it with Brandon in the same way you discussed it with Taron before coming to New York. With an air of inevitability._

** _London – A few days ago _ **

_You were back at home after L.A, back to living your normal life, your lovely sweet life with your lovely sweet man. You’ve worked and shopped and eaten and made love and laughed and been bored and been happy and sad. You’ve spoken about it exactly once. _

_“About what Brandon said…?” Taron says, he’s hesitant. It’s been the elephant in the room. You’re sat on the couch and it’s a bit chilly. You didn’t fancy the usual debate about putting the heating on so you just pulled another blanket out of the airing cupboard. _

_"About the…Rich, about us three?” You ask in reply, equally as hesitant but almost relieved. Taron just nods, takes another sip of his corona. The alcohol has loosened him up. _

_“Do you think Rich is …do you think Rich is the right one, to do this with?” You ask again. This, being the New Year’s resolution you made with Taron when you were being silly, being playful, trying to tease. Threesome. _

_“Who else could it be? Who else could we trust?” He says and he’s right. “And he wants it; as much as we do” Taron adds. You look at him questioningly and he smiles, “Course he does” he says with a smile, “He fuckin’ loves you baby, and he fucking loves me too” Taron sounds less comfortable with the last bit, not quite sure he’s ready to take that step. _

_“When?” You ask simply. There’s no point pretending this hasn’t been inevitable since the day Taron introduced you and the chemistry made you fizz. _

_“New York” He says, and turns on the TV._

_ **New York – One hour ago ** _

_Back in the bar, in New York, and you’ve memorised every inch of the place-mat in front of you, the damp peeling corner and the way the logo has smudged slightly from repeated use. They’re trying to stay incognito, it hasn’t worked. You've spotted at least three different tables trying to take covert photo's on their phones; at least no one has come over. Their currency is high right now, they came off Rocketman and continued to propel towards the stratosphere. You’ve managed to keep your relationship with Taron mostly private. You have a real job after all and the Richard aspect is tightly controlled. Three close friends, often seen out together, when you’re in the same city. That's all; and up until now, you suppose that's true. You play the dutiful girlfriend, loyal and sweet and mostly silent. Your words are for Taron and for Richard when he’s around. You and Richard have managed to keep your bond, your affection for each other quiet. Except for that time you accidentally got papped taking blow backs off him outside a restaurant in London, while Taron was out of town. Taron wasn’t happy about that. His publicist was apoplectic. You’ve been more careful since._

_ “That’s fine by me mate” Richard says, agreeing verbally to the terms set out. He looks at you with gentle eyes. “What about you sweetheart?” After all, they’re discussing your body like you’re not even there. “Are you sure you’re ok with this?” His fingers play with yours lightly. _

_Taron is on your other side with his hand firmly on your thigh. How do you tell him? How do you tell him that it’s what you want most and least in the world? That if it doesn’t happen soon you’ll likely explode but if it all backfires to hell you don’t think you’ll ever recover. To lose Richard, to risk losing Taron. Its madness. But deep down you feel it. You feel the strength of the three of you. Even if you can’t go back to how it was before. You’ll get through it. _

_“I’m sure”, you say and smile. The time for playing the shrinking violet has gone. “But I swear to god if one of you doesn’t fuck me soon I’m going to spontaneously combust”._

_ The burst of laughter from both men elevates the mood and you join in. The love between you is palpable. It’s time to play._

**New York - Now**

You think maybe Taron is angry; the way he’s kissing you, handling you. It’s not him, but this isn’t you either. Maybe for this, you’re outside of yourselves.

You’re hot and wet and something needs to happen. You whimper, the need overwhelming you; someone, one of them, both of them, need to be inside you. Spurred on by this feeling and finding a strength that wasn’t there before, you untangle yourself from groping hands and seeking mouths and step away, moving toward the bed. The big and comfortable and terrifying bed that isn’t yours or Taron’s or Richard's. It’s new and unconnected. Unfamiliar. Just like the surroundings; the hotel room that is beautiful and too big. The studio paid. It’s exactly as it needs to be. Sterile and neutral and generic. There can’t be memories of this outside of your head. Your own bed is sacred.

The breathing in the room is heavy, laboured; both men naked and heaving and confused, where did you go? Too close together now, without you in-between, they step back. You fall back on to the bed because your legs stopped working minutes or hours ago; turned to jelly when Richard made the first move, stalked towards you across the room and kissed you, full on the lips, in front of your boyfriend, his best friend.

“Please, please just…” Your breathing is just as frenetic. “Fuck me” you manage to speak and it elicits a groan but you don’t know from whom. Maybe just from you, but it’s Taron you look at because it’s his face that keeps you on the ground.

It’s feral and soft and its everything you know and don’t recognise at the same time. The two men share a silent look between them. A nod. Then they’re both on you, over you, around you, within you. Two fingers thick and long push in to your pussy, you don’t know whose, and Jesus fuck, this is it. Someone’s kissing you. Both are kissing you. You try and kiss back as best as you can but the feelings that wash over you are too much. Grinding on the fingers inside you, trying to push them deeper, fuck them harder. Please.

“Easy baby” That’s Taron. You stop to look in to his eyes, your own wet with tears of need. “I’ve got you, we’ve got you, let us look after you. We will wont we Rich?” he says looking at his best friend, both of their faces heated with need “We’ll look after our girl”.

Its Richards fingers inside you, you know that now. He lifts his eyes up from where they were concentrating on your pussy and he looks in to your eyes “Of course we will” he says without looking away. “We’ll always take care of you”. There’s a double meaning of course, but it’s this way you need taking care of now.

He returns to the task literally at hand and his fingers are magical. How did you not know this? They circle and plunge and rub and explore and his thumb is on your clit just right and he’s working you like a skilful puppeteer. Taron is kissing you, your face your neck your breasts. Suck, lick, bite, lave, repeat. His lips and his tongue as masterful as Richards’s fingers. You claw out at them, at both of them. To touch and stroke whatever you can reach. Two gloriously furnished chests; you never did like it when they had to wax for a role. Two equally glorious and hard cocks, glistening and proud. You want to touch, to start your own exploration but they’re just out of reach, bumping against you leaking tips ready, teasing you.

When Richard adds his tongue to your clit your first orgasm rockets out of you, knocks you for six. You groan louder than you usually do, louder than you’re comfortable with. It makes you blush and shy, until you look at their faces, wild with want, eyes glazed with need. There’s no time for shy. You need a minute to recover, feeling tender and exposed. Rich pulls his fingers out slow and unhurried. He licks them as he crawls up over you. You gasp at the sight. Filthy and hot like you could never have imagined. Taron gives him this time with you, just you. Watches patiently as Richard kisses you sweetly. Then not. Then it’s hot wet tongue and playful bites. Your face will burn from his stubble in the morning. You don’t care. You hear Taron groan. His kink is showing. He was always good at sharing. He likes to watch you lose yourself, it’s his favourite thing. You feel Richard’s hard cock at the entrance of your pussy, gliding through the slick, he’s pushing his luck. He pauses, lust mixed with a hint of regret on his face. He’s still having you tonight but not there, instead, in the place only Taron has ever been before. You feel another gush inside you at the thought. You leak all over his cock and drip on to his thigh.

“You’re a dirty girl” He whispers in your ear. You nod. He laughs. He sits up suddenly, back on his knees. He strokes his cock. You reach out, you want. Taron is watching carefully, also on his knees but to the side of you on the bed, handling his own cock, leaking and ready. You lie there like sin itself, panting with want. Richard accepts your outstretched hand and pulls you up towards him.

Taron takes the opportunity and moves himself in to the space you’ve just left, lying back on the bed. He’s ready, it’s time. You want Richards cock in your mouth, it waters at the thought, but maybe that’s too much. Too far. A negotiation for another time, you hope. Richard gently turns you around so your back is to his chest. You manoeuvre yourself to straddle Taron. Another second without a cock inside you will end you, you just know it.

Taron’s expression is heat and want and urgency. “Ride me” He says simply. You do. You climb on to him and it’s old and new and familiar and strange. He fills you up like he always has, the burn is less because of the fingers that have been inside you but he’s so deep when you finally settle down on to his thighs and you never get used to that. He lets out a strangled moan. He’s just as turned on as you are but he’s the strength you can’t be, the control you’ve lost. You start to move, just a bit, not enough.

Your knees are wobbly despite the support at your back, holding you up. Richard caresses your sides, your breasts. Big rough hands cupping and stroking and pinching. It’s strange. No one’s ever seen this. The two of you. You and Taron. To have someone watching, be so close. You’re nervous. You fall forward on your hands, clutching at Taron’s arms for stability. You focus on kissing him and moving your hips. Forget about the welcome intruder at your rear, watching, stroking and loving. Then you feel it and it jolts you out of your barely found rhythm. The thick tip of Richard’s cock brushes your ass, trying to find its destination. Its home. You tense, it’s almost imperceptible. Taron calms you with a gentle brush of his fingertips against your cheek. Your eyes are wide as they meet his. You’ve done this before, you love this. You love Taron having you there, but it’s never been like this. Never with someone else.

Taron's eyes urge you to relax, his lips say the same “You’re ok baby, you’re safe” he says softly. We can stop is the subtext. You shake your head. To stop would be death. You want this so much. So much. You moan. It spurs Richard to continue. You feel a squirt of cold liquid on your tight opening. Lube you suppose, where from you don’t know, but you thank god Richard still has some semblance of forethought.

Then the head of his cock, rock hard and weeping settles against the entrance to your ass. Then he’s pushing and Jesus fucking Christ this is like nothing you’ve ever known. Could have ever imagined. To have the two of them inside you at the same time is indescribable. Richard groans too, as his tip penetrates you and he surges forward. So tight, so big, so much. You thought you’d been filled before; thought there’d never be anything that could top that feeling. Wrong. As you feel the wiriness of his crotch settle against your ass you’ve never been this full. This consumed.

The noises in the room increase. Taron lets out a primal sound and it drives you to move, tentative at first then determined. Richard is panting hotly in your ear. Small words of bliss uttered out in his soothing Scottish brogue. He’s gone now too. Control not possible when he’s this deep, this clutched, this fucking consumed. Taron is fucking up in to you, he needs more, more. Filthy words coming out of his mouth, he’s losing it too. Feeling Richards’s rock hard cock stroking him from the inside as they battle within you. One in, one out, in unison, separate. Staccato. You’re whining and panting and moaning and crying with need. It’s so good. They’re so deep.

“Fuck, god Rich I can feel you, against me, it’s like, it’s like, I can’t…” Taron says. It’s mostly nonsense spewed without thought.

“I know, baby, it’s so good, it’s too…I can’t, fuck” Richard’s words are the same. Between the three of you nothing is coherent. Just words and sounds and feelings that are overwhelming and bliss.

They pound in to you. They grab and squeeze and bite and it’s not gentle. That was the past, that’s for the future. The present is need and rough and fucking you. “Take it, take it” That’s one of them, or both of them. You’ll take it however they give it.

They pick up the tempo, they’re surging towards their own endings as you race towards yours. Taron is frantically rubbing at your clit but what’s happening is building from the inside. From the place deep inside being rubbed and stroked by the two loves of your fucking life. When Richard eases out, Taron is deep, when Richard pushes back in, hard, Taron retreats. Your ass takes it gladly; your pussy is as wet as it’s ever been as they fuck you. You feel it then, the waves starting. From your core through your thighs, down to your toes. And up, up your body through your arms. You fingers tingle and it’s everything but a scream. Bliss coming out of your mouth. You pulse and contract around them, squeezing both of them and then you feel it. Hot and wet and gushing inside you. First Taron then Rich then both at the same time. Pumping hot cum into you. You milk them dry.

You collapse on Taron's chest. Sweaty and sticky and breathless. His arms hold you to him tightly. Breathing heavily in your ear. Richard is pressing hard against your back, barely with the strength to hold himself up. You grumble weakly as Richards barely softening cock pulls out of you, you feel the emptiness, the chill and you feel the rush of liquid leave. Filthy and beautiful. You can’t move, you rely on Taron to gently lift you off him and to his side.

Between him and his best friend. You feel more cum leave you, Taron’s this time. You’re not sure you’ll ever feel clean, at least not inside, not after this. Feelings of depravity and bliss conflicting in your mind. It races as the calm fades, but you’re too tired to panic right now. That was the fuck of your life, you’re sure of it. The air is full of panting, of steady breathing being regained. It was probably the fuck of their lives too, you think and the thought puts a hint of a smile on your face. You’ll take that if that’s all you can have after this.

Too soon and Taron is up off the bed. You watch him walk naked to the bathroom, glistening and gorgeous and proud. You take the opportunity to move away from Richard, too close and too hot at your back. You need space to breathe, to cool down. Taron’s back then with a cold wet cloth and he cleans you gently, pressing light kisses on your face.

“Good girl” He says softly, sweet condescension, but well meaning. Lovely. He cleans himself up to, passes another cloth to Richard who does the same. Then the three of you are together again, lying side by side. Silent in your recovery.

_ **London – A few days ago** _

_ “But what about after?” You say in to the darkness. It’s late, neither of you are asleep. Taron made love to you, gently and sweet. You came hard but briefly with your fingers on your clit, usually he does that bit but tonight you were both tired, it’s quicker when you do it. Your mind is buzzing with what ifs. Your flight tomorrow is at 11am. New York. Richard is there for work. Taron has meetings and a photo-shoot. Brandon will be in L.A. You’re finally going to talk to Richard properly. Make sure he’s on the same page. Make a plan._

_ “What about after what?” Taron asks sleepily. You’re jealous of how quickly he can doze after sex. He doesn’t have to get up and pee, clean up, make sure he looks good fucked not gross fucked._

_ “What if…what if it ruins us. All of us. What if…you hate me, or him, both” You ask. It’s the darkness that bolsters you, these fears would never be expressed in the light. _

_Taron turns towards you quickly. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness. His beautiful features strong and pronounced in the moonlight leaking in through the sky light. His hands cup your face. His nose brushes yours. “Never” He says. He means it. “I could never. Doing this, it’s as much for me as it is for you. For him”. You blink, no tears tonight. “Besides, you’re not the only one who feels like combusting when we’re together” he laughs then he’s serious again “Jesus I love you both so much” He says softly. “I want to see you, see you…” he trails off trying to find the words. _

_You try and lighten the mood “Get fucked?” You ask cheekily, he barks out a laugh in response. _

_“Yeah” he says still amused. “See you get fucked, see you cum harder than you ever thought possible. See the person I love second most in the world love you like I do”. You shudder at his words. Anticipation. Trepidation. He’s stroking small circles on your hips lightly, thinking of starting something but he might be too tired. His cock not quite on board with his brain yet. _

_“What about you and him? You know he wants to…” It’s a difficult truth for you to swallow. You’re selfish. Taron is yours; your everything, your only thing. To risk losing him, it’s too much. _

_“Me and him” Taron says “Me and him aren’t for now, not for this time. I don’t, I don’t know if I want that, not really. I love him, I’d try and…do stuff, maybe one day if he wants. But he knows… and it’s not right to do it with half a heart.” He says softly struggling to express his thoughts properly, “And he has Brandon” He adds as an afterthought. You don’t know how you got so lucky. You kiss him softly._

_ “Let’s go to sleep. Long day tomorrow”._

**New York - Now**

The hotel room is light, in all your haste last night you didn’t close all the curtains. At 27 stories up and through delicate lace window dressings there was never the risk of being seen, but they aren’t enough to keep out the low morning light. You fell asleep. You’re almost shocked; sure you’d lie awake as the men slept beside you, boxing you in, trapped and safe in equal measure; but your body had never felt so relaxed. Its 5.04 am on the clock by the bedside. Richard is lying on his back beside you, one arm behind his head, snoring softly. Peaceful and gorgeous. Covered by the sheet up to his waist. Tempting. To your left Taron is asleep on his side, facing you, always curled in to you. His arm is resting lightly on your stomach. You turn to him fully, press in as close as you can without waking him. Breathe him in, his sweet scent, his sweat, his breath, the smell of his shampoo, its your shampoo of course, he never remembers his own. He hugs you tightly to him without waking up. You fall asleep again.

Hours later Taron orders breakfast while you’re in the shower. Richard got up first, went to piss and then on to the balcony to smoke. His hair is wild, his gray streak not quite aligned, he’s in one of the hotels plush white dressing gowns, and it’d be the sexiest sight your eyes had ever seen if Taron wasn’t in a matching one. The food arrived while you were getting dressed. Back in to the pyjamas shorts but with one of Tarons t-shirts this time, the silk of the shorts feels soothing against your skin. You’d spent a few minutes looking at yourself in the mirror. A few red marks on your hips, some light bite marks on your breasts and neck. There’ll be a bruise or two later on your arms and thighs you’re sure. Every sensation worth it a million times.

You step out of the bathroom to find both men huddled around a small round marble table over by one of the floor to ceiling windows, its crowded with plates. Breakfast set out in front of them like a feast, you’re sure he must’ve ordered everything from the menu. Richard shovels French toast in to his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in days. Taron is busy putting eggs and bacon and fruit on a plate for you. You could cry at his sweetness.

“Hi Baby, good shower?” He says when he sees you. His face lighting up as you approach them. His hand reaches for yours as you sit down on the chair between them.

Richard winks at you, a mouth full of egg baked bread, powdered sugar on his lips. “Sorry love, couldn’t wait” Richard says after he swallows his mouthful. “Got my brains fucked out last night and that gives a man a hunger”

There’s a bright loud laugh from Taron and a sharp shocked laugh from you.

“You got your brains fucked out?” You say in disbelief. “You should have tried being in my shoes”.

You can still feel them both, where they were inside you. You don’t think that’s going away any time soon. But you’re so happy. You’re still you and Richard is still Richard and Taron is still Taron. Still the three of you. The lightness and the joy and the love. The relief is palpable in the air.

“Aye” Richard says nodding. “Well maybe next time eh?” He looks coyly at Taron who just rolls his eyes and chuckles lightly.

“One step at a time love” He says and it’s directed to both of you. To you and to Richard. The loves of his life, but in such different ways.

You smile and watch them as they continue eating till their hearts and stomachs are content. If you ever feel like eating again it’ll be a bloody miracle, the butterflies in your stomach are frantic and strong. You try though; you fork some scrambled eggs in to your mouth and chew.

You sit back and you relax. You breathe.


End file.
